


Close Quarters

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Car Sex, Establish Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and a bit of leather kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: This is exactly what Sam wanted. It may be what Gene needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short ficlet written to prove that I can do proper PWPs. All sex, no plot, also written as a distraction against some world warping things that are going on right now. This is not betead, so pardon any mistakes.

'You're the bloody slut,' Gene hisses, Sam tight all around him. He rocks his hips into Sam's heat and Sam clutches at his shoulders with both hands, his breath scalding wetness against Gene's ear. 'You're the one who wanted... this... here... where we...'

'Where we could get caught,' Sam breathes out, fingers spasming, breath catching as the space around them, tight already, seems to press in even closer. 'Just, don't stop. Don't stop.'

'Would be over sooner if you'd touch yourself,' Gene growls, eyes rolling back as he rocks his hips, Sam making small, needy noises as he moans, nails blunt but hard through the sweaty fabric of his shirt, Sam's slick-smeared cock rubbing hard against his gut. It's Sam all around him, Sam and sweat and the leather of the back seat, the leather Sam's still wearing, the leather on Gene's hands where he's digging at Sam's hips to keep hold of him. It's them shagging in the car, no matter they're out of sight where no one would ever, ever find them. It's Gene giving in and giving Sam what he wants, all because it might just be what Gene needs.

'Don't want fast,' Sam says, sure as anything, slamming down as Gene goes to catch his breath. 'Shit,' he shudders, leaning his head back, and Gene gazes at him through a haze of lust and sweat, Sam rocking to the rhythm of Gene's own thrusts. 'Don't stop,' he says again, a murmur, intrinsically a command, and what else is there for Gene to do? He keeps fucking, Sam tightening around him, Sam's mouth dragging along the stubble on his jaw.

Sam might have been the one who wanted this, here, in the back seat of the Cortina, them out eyeing a suspect. But Gene's the one who'd first voiced his concern that this was a bloody waste of time, and then Sam had given him that _look_.

Sam gasps, leaning back. The seat is sticky with sweat and Gene tightens his hold on Sam's flesh as he rocks into him, Sam bracing both of his hands against the seats. 'Come on, come on,' he says, eyes shut, lashes dark against the dim pallor of his skin. 'Don't stop.'

And Gene doesn't, knowing he's blessed – and maybe, yes, cursed – to be able to see Sam like this, painted in shadows and sweat, erect cock bobbing cheerfully as he rides himself on his Guv's equally glad member. Gene senses the not so subtle change, Sam biting at his lip, tensing all over, tensing inside, and he slides one arm up across Sam's leather-clad shoulders to pull him in closer as Gene slams into him harder, faster, pushing himself past the limits of his endurance and finding the will in himself to continue. Sam clenches hard around him as he comes, fingers hot against Gene's neck, mouth hotter where it touches skin.

'Touch yourself,' he whispers, voice gone hoarse, and Sam smiles so utterly sweetly – how he manages it, Gene doesn't know – as he shakes his head.

'No.'

'Leaving me to do all the hard work,' Gene says, and Sam's still smiling, and God, Gene's so hard, it's close to too much. The heat of it all is soaking through Gene's shirt, and he rests a hand at the back of Sam's neck, fingers slid up into his roughly cut hair, as he closes his eyes and bites at Sam's leather collar, thrusting harder, hard as he can – one time, two, no, then it's five – and all the tension inside explodes as he melts inside of Sam letting out all of his breath.

Sam slumps onto him leadenly, sweat and semen smeared between them. 'I'm never moving again,' Sam whispers, and Gene chuckles, twitching instead of Sam's too-hot body. 'I pity the plod who finds us in the morning.'

Gene nips at Sam's ear, his shoulder, but no luck, Sam's not budging. Gene swats Sam's arse – not nearly as sharply as he might have – and he rests his forehead against creaking leather as Sam cushions his cheek against Gene's hair, nuzzling affectionately, no mind for any of the mess.

'Just as soon as we catch our breath,' Gene murmurs, and it's a warning, but when's Sam ever been one to listen to him, ever? And Sam must be thinking the same thing, since now he's the one who chuckles, wiggling and causing Gene to groan, his heart to skip a beat.

'Sure, Guv, whatever you say.'


End file.
